


New Year, Newborn

by BBirdy



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: AU to Book, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Consensual Underage Sex, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Whump, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Description, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Temporary Amnesia, Underage Drinking, Whump, graphic birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2020-10-25 17:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20728310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BBirdy/pseuds/BBirdy
Summary: Ever so slowly the pain faded. Grunting his thanks Baz shifted back, turning to use the tub as support once more.“So what do we do?” Simon asked.“We will do nothing.” Baz laid his head down, suppressing a wince. “You will go back to bed. I am perfectly capable of doing this myself.”“Like hell,” Simon yelped.





	1. Chapter One

Bad idea. So many bad ideas. Baz should have known. He should've known the second Snow came back to their dorm. It was five in the morning. Snow had New Year's confetti tangled in those perfect bronze curls. 

Back to him, Baz began to unbutton his shirt. He'd only just returned from his own celebration and his head buzzed uncomfortably, thoughts far away. 

"Heeeey," Simon's alcohol tinted breath brushed across his neck. 

"Get away from me Snow," Baz took a step forward, face hot. 

Simon dropped his chin on his shoulder. "Don't be like that," he stuck out his bottom lip. "Jus' wanna talk."

Damn, even his pout was cute. 

Baz pulled down his covers. "I don't. Go to bed."

"But it's New Year's!" He dropped dramatically atop the bed. That in itself wouldn't have been a problem if it had indeed been his own bed. 

"Get off, Snow." Baz rubbed his temples. He swore he was going to discover who had spiked the punch bowl and drain them dry. He'd never felt so drunk in his life. 

"M' not tired."

"I am," Baz tried to shove at his shoulder. 

Simon caught his wrist. 

* * *

The low groan pulled Simon from the twilight of sleep. One heavy-lidded eye forced open he could see the bedside clock. Eleven PM. He'd hardly been asleep for an hour. Brushing it off he rolled over, drifting once more. 

" _ Ughnnn _ ," Baz struggled to muffle a groan into his pillow. 

Damn his sleepy concern. Simon lifted himself up onto one elbow, rubbing his eyes. "You okay?"

"Go back to sleep, Snow," Baz grunted, dropping his face into his blankets. That wasn't the sound of a faded nightmare. Those were sobs; agonized ones. 

Ever the master of doing as he was told Simon watched his roommate. Cast only in dim moonlight Baz laid shirtless across his covers, back to Simon. 

"Never pegged you as the type to show skin," Simon smothered a yawn. "That's usually my choice of pajamas. What happened to the monogrammed…" he trailed away, watching Baz coil like a spring. 

Every muscle of his spine had turned to stone. Shaking arms curled tight until his nails had left welts across arms and shoulders. That wasn't what had Simon up like a bottle rocket. It was the sound, the inhuman yowl, wrung from Baz's lungs. Baz had never made a sound like that before. Never.

"Baz?" Simon threw his blankets off, a hand at his arm. "Baz? What's wro-"

"Don't touch me!" Baz wound himself further into the corner of his bed. "Don't touch me. Just leave me alone, Snow."

Simon shifted from foot to foot. "Should I get the nurse?"

"No," Baz spoke with a controlled panic. Up on both hands, his eyes had turned to the size of dinner plates. Paler than the moonlight he looked insane. "No nurse, no anybody. I don't need-" his shoulder's hitched, breathing harder. 

"Baz?"

"I don't need anyone," he dug his fingers into the sheets, face shifting from white to pale green quick as a neon. 

"Baz?"

"I, I think I should," Baz scrambled off his bed, vanishing into the bathroom.

"Are you sure I shouldn't get the nurse?" Simon followed, only to have the door slammed in his face. "Baz? Answer me!"

The only sound was of dry heaving. 

"If you don't answer I'm getting the nurse."

"Screw. Off," Baz growled. "Go back to bed. It's food poisoning or something and if you talk to anyone about it I'll leave your body in a ditch," he sneered.

Simon stopped dead. Warring with himself a long moment he let indignant anger win, stomping out pity or, god forbid, concern. "Proud, spoiled, little," Simon snarled, stomping back to his bed. "Puke your guts out for all I care, damn prat. Crowley forbid he actually give into his swollen pride and ask for help," he grumbled into his pillow. "Who would want to help the-" he stopped wincing badly. "Crowley?" Shit. He even swore like him.

Arms crossed firmly Simon turned over eyes squeezed shut, dreading sleep. 

It wasn’t a restful sleep if he could have even called it that. Confusing dreams, for they must have been dreams, swam to the forefront of his mind. 

Always the same, ever since New Year's, his guilty pleasure dream took over. 

"Call me Simon," his dream self was whispering. New Year's confetti fell onto white sheets. Baz's face came into sharp clarity. Sweaty and shirtless his mouth was spread, not into a pained grimace, but into a soft smile. 

There was no way Simon had seen that smile in real life. Why did he feel so right looking at that smile? 

Simon jolted back up, sweat pouring down his spine. His sex drive, as always with that  _ stupid _ dream, had sprung to life. 

“The smile was new,” Simon mumbled, rubbing stars into his eyes. It was always moans, always Baz calling his name, his first name. He wished that stupid dream would just leave him alone. 

Baz hated him. And he hated Baz. Didn’t he?

He’d been a nightmare for months, hardly talking to Simon. And when he did it was scathing, snarky remarks. 

“I wish...” Simon shifted in his bed, trying to regain sleep. “I wish something would just happen. Prove I’m just going crazy with that awful,” he stopped himself, Baz’s smile still wavering on the edge of his vision. It wasn’t  _ that _ awful, really.

Eyes closed once more he let himself drift, holding tight to that smile, to the way Baz’s heavy-lidded eyes gazed into his. 

“Simon,” the dream whispered, voice low, a tone never heard in waking moments. 

“Hmm?” Simon hummed his answer, still hovering on the edge of wakefulness. 

“I think,” The dream Baz propped his head up on his hand, hair a dark messy curtain around that gorgeous face. “I think I lov-” he stopped again, biting his lip. Finally, he took a great deep breath, only for the dream to shatter with the agonized scream. 

"What in the-?" Simon glanced over. Only just awake enough to catch it, he heard the scream cut in half, shifting to a far distant sob. 

"Baz?" he mumbled, peering across the room, only to find his bed empty. 

Blinking himself awake Simon pushed back the covers. A glance told him it was a little past two in the morning. 

The only light in the room now came from the slit under the bathroom door.

"Three hours?" Simon stood, stumbling to the bathroom. "Baz, are you still in there?"

No answer. There was only a shuffling, the sound of what he assumed to be water. 

"Whatever," Simon yawned, pushing away his dream. "Must've run a bath or something…"

Walking back to the bed he tripped over his feet, catching himself on Baz's bed. "Shit," he hissed, trying to find what he'd kicked, finding only his own feet. 

Wide awake now he found something crusting below his fingers. 

"What's…" Simon fumbled for the bedside lamp, flipping it on. His jaw hung open, eyes frozen at the covers. The mattress had been covered in scarlet, turned to a black, the shadow of… blood. Baz was  _ bleeding _ . Or he had been; hours before. 

With the room spinning and the air feeling just a little too thick Simon tried to get his bearings. 

"Baz." He scrambled up, going to pound at the door. "Baz! Baz, let me in."

"Go away, Snow." The voice that emerged from behind the door was ragged. 

Simon bristled. "Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. If you don't let me in right now I swear I will wake the whole castle. I'll get the nurse, the mage, hell, I'll call a damn ambulance!"

A sigh, long and low. "Fine," Baz relented. "Though I can't believe you actually remember my full name."

Crossing his arms Simon tapped his foot. "Well?"

"Door's open."

"Oh."

The knob twisted as promised. But nothing could have prepared Simon for the sight behind it. 

Blood. Blood everywhere. 

Blackened and dried on most every surface, the bathroom reeked of it. Pools of fresh scarlet splattered the floor, smearing the bathtub and counter. Crumpled in the center, the source of it all, Baz clung to the rim of the tub. 

With his back still to Simon, Baz set his cheek on the porcelain, shirtless and panting. 

The was no air in the room. Simon gaped helplessly. 

Turning bloodshot eyes on the figure in the door, Baz scowled. "Get your fill yet?"

"What happened? You're hurt. I saw the blood on your bed. This is yours? You're really hurt. You need help. What do I do?" Alarm fumbled his already numb tongue, Simon's feet rooted to the carpet. 

"Leave me alone, Snow," Baz spat. "I'm perfectly capable of-" his words cut to a strangled scream, hunching him over, white fingers digging into his arms. 

"Baz!" Simon dropped to his knees, trying to pull his hand away. "What's wrong… holy hell…" he breathed. 

Still hunched over, wearing nothing but his blood-stained boxers, Baz couldn't hide the swell of his midsection. It was a mass, grown over his waistband, hanging heavy off his spine. 

"What's- Baz what's going on?" Simon spoke far slower. "What is that?"

Lifting stormy gray eyes, Baz blinked back agonized tears. Across his cheek hung the echo of his own bloody handprint, tears tracks already run through. "That would be my baby."

"Your what?" Simon's voice was dying. 

"I'm pregnant."


	2. Chapter Two

"Lie down with me," Simon whispered. 

Baz could feel the color in his cheeks. Something hot was churning in his intestines. Why had he drained a whole fox for dinner? He didn't need that much. 

"Snow," Baz kept the stutter from his voice. "You need to go to bed."

"I am in bed," Simon pulled at his arm, bringing him closer. With an evil grin, he tugged at his wrist. 

Face to face Baz found himself lying on top of the great Simon Snow, a shirtless Simon Snow nonetheless. 

"Snow, what are you doing?"

"Why do you call me that?" Simon's arm was around him, tangling their legs together. "You always call me 'Snow.'" His hand was at Baz's cheek, fingers moving up through his hair. "You can call me Simon."

Baz had to force his throat to unstick. "You're drunk, Snow."

"And what if I am?" His voice was low, the sultry tone Baz had only ever imagined. "Maybe the alcohol is just making me brave."

"Snow-"

In one motion Simon swept Baz over, straddling his hips. The glint in his eyes was dangerous. 

"Call me Simon," his lips were pressed underneath Baz's ear. 

All Baz could manage was a whimper. 

This was wrong. But he never wanted it to stop. 

* * *

“What do you mean pregnant?”

“Knocked up, with child, up the duff. However, you choose to phrase it.”

“How?”

“Magic.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Then what’s your guess?” Baz wasn’t fighting, speaking everything matter-of-fact. He didn’t meet Simon’s eyes, a hand brushing softly over his stomach. 

“But-”

Baz shot him an exhausted glare. 

“Fine!” Simon ran his fingers through his hair. “Fine, you’re pregnant. And you won’t tell me how?”

“I told you how.”

“Magic isn’t exactly the answer I was looking for.”  
  
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”  
  
Simon pursed his lips. “Okay,” he shifted, knees stained deep red. “And with all this blood I assume you’re- you-” he swallowed hard. “You’re not in labor. Are you?”

“You’re not as dim as you look, Snow.”

“Uncalled for,” Simon scowled, watching Baz tensing up. “But I’ll let it slide for now.” 

Unable to speak Baz tuned out the world, panting for air as he curled in on himself. 

Desperately trying to help him Simon grabbed his hand, letting Baz squeeze his fingers black and blue. 

Ever so slowly the pain faded. Grunting his thanks Baz shifted back, turning to use the tub as support once more. 

“So what do we do?” Simon asked. 

“ _ We _ will do nothing.” Baz laid his head on the tub. “ _ You _ will go back to bed. I am perfectly capable of doing this myself.”

“Like hell,” Simon yelped. Scrambling up he drew himself straighter, arms crossed firmly. “I am not going anywhere! If you won’t agree to real help then you are stuck with me. Deal with it.”

A haze seemed to lift from Baz’s eyes. Finally, he gave a short nod. 

What could go wrong?

“Good. How do I help?”

Baz took in his determined expression, aching to press a kiss between those furrowed brows. “I, could you clean up the blood?”  _ It smelled _ .

Making the great Simon Snow clean up half his body weight in blood. 

That would get him to leave. Wouldn't it?

Simon hesitated. Ready to leave?

"It won't do any good to clean up if you're still bleeding.:

It was a statement though Baz answered it anyway. "And I have been for hours. What do you expect me to do about it?" 

Simon gnawed his lip. "Get in the tub?"

"Are you asking?"

"Baz, stop being such a-" Simon caught his expression, forcing his answer through his teeth. "Yes. I'm asking. Will you please get in the tub."

He pushed himself to his knees, trembling with the effort. "I, I can't."

"What?" Simon paused, anger flickering. 

Baz clung to the porcelain, positively trembling. "I can't move."

Dropping the supplies already gathered Simon took his arm.

With help and a grunt, Baz was on his feet, though very hardly. Knees knocking he wound an arm around Simon's shoulders. 

With a delicate care Baz couldn't have expected, Simon helped him down. He breathed, long and slow, dropping his head back.

His free hand supported the sheer weight of his stomach, thumb brushing exposed skin.

"How did you hide that?" Simon asked bluntly. 

Baz scowled. "How do you think?"

Resisting every urge to roll his eyes Simon picked up a blood-soaked towel. "Am I ever going to get a better answer than  _ magic _ ?"

“No,” Baz held to the hand offered him, hiding the rembling from the arduous task of  _ getting into the tub _ . He refused to let go until he’d properly settled himself down. 

“Why?”

Baz chose his words carefully, sinking along the curve until he could rest his cheek on the rim. Feet braced against the inner corners he linked his fingers over his belly button. 

Giving up on an answer Simon turned back to the room, dropping dirty towels onto the floor. 

“It is a… long and convoluted story.” Baz began slowly. “I don’t think I have the time to tell it.” His words lacked their usual bite. 

Simon examined him, running a cloth under the faucet. His roommate was near corpse-like in his exhaustion. Baz’s shoulders were limp, upper body only supported by the rim of the tub. His face was drawn, circles under his closed eyes. Sweat dampened hair pressed into his damp forehead. 

“Do you want water?”

“Hmm?” Baz didn’t move. 

“Water?”

“Sure.” His hand ghosted over his stomach. Blood had dried into the grooves of his fingerprints, stains showing where his fingers continued to clutch over the course of hours.

Hovering in the doorway Simon bit his lip, carefully considering his question.

“Baz?” Simon finally came forward. 

“Hmm?”

“How long have you been in labor?”

“Why do you ask?”

Simon set the glass carefully on the rim. “Because you look like shit.”

Baz snorted, his amusement giving him the energy to lift the glass to his lips. “How tactful, Snow.” He took down half the glass before he came Simon went back to cleaning. 

“Two days.”

Simon froze, praying the words were not his answer. 

“I’ve been in labor for two days,” Baz set the cup down, digging his palms into his temples. “It started getting worse at dinner.”

“And the bleeding?”

“Just after you went to bed.” 

There was something scarily defeated to his tone. Exhaustion was quickly taking over. 

Simon found an odd instinct swirling in his chest. Something in him needed to help, to protect, to scoop Baz up in his arms and- no. He cut off that line of thinking with brutal speed. “Why didn’t you tell someone?”

His derisive snort was answer enough. “And who would I tell? No one knows about me, about my- about the baby.” He faltered, picking it up quickly. “Besides, who would’ve cared.”

“I care.”

Baz couldn’t quite snap at the betrayal in Snow’s voice. “Yes well, that has come as a surprise, to say the least.”

Settling to a stony silence Simon dropped the damp cloth on the ground, scrubbing at the stains in the grout. If Penelope had been there he was sure she could have charmed it away in less than a second. The manual labor was therapeutic in a way; it helped him get a hold of more prickly thoughts. 

Could Baz really think so little of him as to believe he would have rather watched him suffer for two days? Clearly he must. 

Simon scrubbed at the dried blood, wiping away every drop. 

Through every renewed contraction Simon abandoned his work to take Baz’s hands in his. After a dozen of them, the movement had become routine. Floor cleaned to a degree Simon paused to admire his work. 

The now-familiar groan grabbed his attention. 

Baz reached for him instinctively, holding tight for several long moments before falling back. “I, I need to be timing these,” he breathed. 

“Guess there isn’t really a clock in here,” Simon reluctantly let him go. 

Shifting his hand back to his middle, palm moving from the blood-soaked porcelain, leaving a trail through pale skin. 

“You need a bath.”

“I’m in the bath,” Baz answered in the same tone of voice one would use to explain two plus two is four to a cranky toddler. 

Simon pursed his lips. “Not what I meant.” Still, he let it slide. Joking around meant he had to be feeling better. Right?

“It won’t do any good anyway,” Baz turned up his nose, less than pleased with his state. “As long as I’m still bleeding it would fill up the bath.”

Simon glanced it over. “It doesn't look like you are?”

“How do you mean?” Baz sat up with some degree of difficulty, examining the once white tub. The bottom was streaked red, though it had all turned a sticky maroon. All blood was at least an hour old. Inspecting his inner thigh Baz pulled back dark, tacky fingers, face pinched. “You’re right, for once.”

“So why do you look so miserable?” A knot wound tighter inside Simon. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“In a sense.”

“Which means?”

Baz closed his eyes. “The temporary birth canal is complete.”

“Temporary…” Simon furrowed his brows. “Wait, wait, a birth canal? You mean you’re going to…” he turned mildly green. 

Baz couldn’t suppress his amused smirk. “Neither you nor I are capable of performing a cesarean section. How else would the baby be born?”

Jaw flapped like a beached goldfish Simon gaped. “I mean, it never really crossed my mind.” There had been several other things to think about, including the alarming new feelings welling up in him. “Wait, do you still have all your junk?”

“An impertinent question to say the least,” Baz snorted. “You’re welcome to check. I’ll have to strip if I am going to take a bath.”

“No, no, no, no,” Simon shot to his feet. “There will be no stripping.” He wasn’t sure his confused hormones could handle it. 

Baz grinned, head back and face up at the ceiling. “If you can’t take nudity you can always-” he stopped. A perfect opportunity to have him go away. And yet the idea of losing those steady hands twisted something under his ribs. “You could grab me some new clothes.”

“All right. But first,” Simon took up the fallen shower curtain, re-fixing it to the wall. “Do what you need to. I’ll be right back.”

Baz hummed ascent. He shouldn’t be so comforted by those last few words. Simon was never supposed to be a part of this. He was never supposed to know about his baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. Please leave a comment. I loved to reply to any and all!


	3. Chapter Three

The morning came too quickly. Wide awake instantly Baz pressed his palms into his eyes, blush rising quickly. 

Stars glittering across his vision he carefully recounted every detail. Even the hazy memory of their drunken night left fire in his veins. 

"Not a dream," he begged the fates. "Please don't let it be a dream."

Peering over the edge of the bed he saw it. Both his and Snow's boxers laid on the floor. One casual whiff of the room had his head spinning. 

"I," Baz couldn't help the squeak. "I had sex with Simon Snow. Alistair Crowley, I just lost my virginity to Sinow Snow."

His fully renewed sex drive collapsed at the morning's sounds. 

Bathroom door flung open Simon was hunched over the toilet tossing his cookies violently. 

Sitting up Baz snatched his boxers from the floor, and with the foresight to pull on a shirt, Baz dared the bathroom doorway. 

"Good morning," he rested his head on the doorway, feigning his ease.

"What's so good about it?" Simon grumbled, face resolutely green. Still as sickly as he was Baz couldn't hide his fond smile. 

Nerves wound tighter in Baz's stomach. "Are you saying you didn't have fun?"

"As I blacked out about two or three in the morning," Simon lurched forward, dry heaving. "So I can't say how fun it was."

"You don't remember?" Baz breathed. There was a knot welling at the base of his throat. 

* * *

Simon paused outside the bathroom, watching his shaking fingers for a long moment. His fingertips had pruned during his cleaning. Behind him, he heard the bathwater start, the sound of skin dragged against porcelain, and the shower curtain sliding shut. His own sigh shut out the noise, if only for a moment. 

He still hadn’t processed. 

“Best keep it that way,” Simon pushed himself forward. He always worked best when he didn’t think. Instinct served better results. 

Flipping his bedside lamp back on Simon picked through Baz’s dresser. School uniforms, socks, ties, and neatly folded pajamas. Nothing looked comfortable. Even the underpants were starch pressed. 

“Oh!” he mumbled. Closing the dresser he reached into his own drawers. 

“S-Simon?” the weak groan sounded over the water, stopping him cold. 

He spun on his heel, colliding with the doorframe in his sprint. Nearly cracking his kneecaps he dropped to Baz’s side. “What’s wrong?”

Baz didn’t speak, maybe he couldn’t. From the water he pulled one shaking arm, desperately reaching for something to cling to. 

Dutifully Simon took it. 

Breath catching in his throat Baz grit his teeth, pulling his bare chest against the porcelain. The rest of his body was hidden behind the curtain. Simon didn’t try to peer around it. 

“Baz,” Simon kept his voice even. “You’re not breathing. You have to keep breathing.”

He ignored Baz’s weakly shaking head. 

“Just follow me,” Simon pressed the trembling hand to his lips. Just that small motion was enough to draw his attention. 

Heavy lidded, Baz watched him, struggling to imitate his slow breathing. Shoulders hitching forward he finally sank back into the water, biting his lip to keep from whimpering. 

“That looked bad,” Simon reluctantly released his hand. 

Baz shrugged, clammy cheek resting once more on the rim. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Do what?” Simon swallowed, heat rising in his cheeks. Should he have not kissed his hand? It felt right. 

“That breathing thing,” Baz calculated his pink cheeks. 

“Oh,” Simon relaxed. “Well, if you’ll believe it, I helped Ebb deliver one of the goats. She says they need to keep their breathing down. I didn’t think you wanted me petting your head.”

Baz didn’t answer. 

Both turned a deep scarlet. 

“Well,” Simon cleared his throat. “Um, you look better.”

“Is that so?”

Simon gestured vaguely. “You’re cleaner. There’s no blood on your face.”

“I didn’t realize,” Baz brushed his cheek, the water around him its own shade of baby pink. “I’ll need to get out soon, before the next contraction begins.”

“Right,” Simon hurried back out, grabbing the clothes he’d picked. “Can I, should I just leave this here?”

Baz eyed him, amused. “Didn’t mark you as the squeamish type, Snow.”

Simon flushed darker. “Just call me if you need me. I’ll be out here.”

The soft laugh followed him out. It was a breathless sound, and yet so oddly familiar. 

Once the bathroom door shut behind him, Simon sunk back to the floor, listening carefully. 

The drain plug was pulled, water slowly sinking away. 

Hiding beneath the sound of the bath Baz grunted, forcing himself up. 

“Crowley,” he swore under his breath, curling a hand under his belly. “When did you get so heavy?” Patting himself dry Baz curled a towel around his hips and blindly reached for the clothes brought him. 

“Snow, what did you...” he paused, fingering the neck of the shirt. His smile was small. The shirt was several sizes too large, meant for an obese man, not that he cared. Double checking that the door was firmly closed he pressed the bundle to his nose. 

His chest ached. The stupid thing even smelled like Snow. 

“S’ probably a step-down,” Baz muttered under his breath. “Carrying his baby is slightly more personal than borrowing his shirt.” He pulled the hem down, letting it hang at his thighs. “Though he’s not to know about that.” Baz met the movements of his shifting child. The last of the water drained, sputtering away, only to be followed by a knock. 

“Baz?” Simon called. “Everything okay?”

“You may enter.”

Simon peered around the corner, an odd fluttering around his ribcage.  _ The hell _ ? He struggled to compose his face.  _ It’s Baz,  _ just Baz sitting on the edge of the tub, wearing his oversize t-shirt, damp hair curled around his chin, thin shoulder laid bare. His arms curled curled gently around his wide midsection. He was so fragile, like a glass sculpture, silver eyes blinking through thick lashes.

“Stop it,” Simon muttered.

“What?” Baz snapped to attention, arms plastered to his sides. 

“Nothing. How are you feeling?”

“As well as can be expected.” Baz hunched over, breathing picking up.

Scrambling forward Simon knelt before him, taking his hand. From his position, he could watch Baz’s shifting expressions. 

His brows met, lips pressed tight. His chest rose and fell with a kind of unsteady control. Each gasp was difficult, emotions forcing it out as a tremulous sigh.

Inches away, Simon’s fingers ghosted across the swell of his stomach. The skin turned rock hard, muscles straining. 

Finally, Baz began to unwind, the nails he’d dug into Simon’s hand releasing. He muttered something akin to an apology while Simon waved the words away. He shifted. Simon felt he should be more of a comfort, maybe put an arm around his shoulders. Shaking his head infinitesimally Simon collected himself. What was wrong with him?

“Snow.”

He turned to meet Baz’s eyes. “Hmm?”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“I was, I’m thinking about the stuff you won’t tell me,” Simon scrambled for an excuse. 

Baz dropped his head, picking at the hem of his shirt. “I see.”

“Look,” Simon’s intestines knotted. “I won’t press-”

“What do you want to know?”

Simon froze. “Wait, seriously?”

Lips thin Baz nodded once. “You’ve literally pulled me from a pool of my own blood. You deserve answers.”

“Thank you.”

“This is not a free pass,” Baz jabbed a finger at his chest. “I’m not going to go spilling your guts to you. And if a syllable leaves this room I will hex you so hard-”

“Relax,” Simon held p his hands in surrender. “Trust me. No one will hear a thing about tonight. No one would believe me anyway.” He lifted himself to the toilet seat, resisting the urge to take the empty space by Baz. 

Baz shifted, straddling the rim of the tub, back against the tiled wall. “Good. You may begin your interrogation.”

“It’s not an interrogation,” Simon stalled. Perhaps he should’ve thought this through. Simon opened his mouth, ready to stumble over incoherent thoughts only to find a slew of questions ready-made. 

“How?”

Baz winced. Of course. That one right out of the gate. “The usual way,” he summoned a weak sneer. 

“But you’re-”

“Dead?” Baz made air quotes. “An evil undead vampire?”

“I was going to say a boy. But that too!”

“Magic.”

Simon bristled again. “Baz. That’s not a real answer. You said you’d tell me!”

“That’s all I know,” Baz hated the crack in his voice. “Okay? That’s it. I don’t have a real answer. I’ve looked for months. As far as I can figure the, the other parent had a lot of latent magic and some of it became displaced. Hence,” he gestured to his middle. “Hence a life growing out of death, or at the very least, undeath.”

“Oh,” Simon deflated. “Wait, did you just admit-”

“Don’t push it, Snow,” Baz sighed, too tired to summon more than the exhausted warning. 

“Fine, fine,” Simon settled a wicked grin still plastered to his face. Though that faded as he examined his roomate. 

What little energy Baz had managed to get from his bath was fading and quickly. Still, there was one more question he had to try. 

“Baz?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask about the other parent?”

Baz stiffened. “No. You may not.”

Simon opened his mouth. “But-”

“Drop it, Snow.”

“You can call me Simon.”

Memories swarmed, memories of the New Year celebration would be with Baz, clear as a bell until his death. Alcohol could only numb so much. Heat rising thick and fast Baz trembled. “I’m going to be sick,” Baz whirled around, bile burning up his throat, splattering into the newly cleaned tub. 

“Baz!” Simon yelped. 

“Leave it,” Baz heaved. “Go get more water.”

Grabbing the cup, Simon left one more, mind whirring. “Was it something I said?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone, especially Girlinaband. You rock, thank you so much for your words of support!


	4. Chapter Four

"You don't remember anything?"

Simon shook his head, ever more confetti falling from his curls. "I woke up ten minutes ago, lying on the floor. I guess I must've fallen out of bed." He lurched forward, puking once more. 

Hardly able to breathe Baz tried to make sense of what he was hearing. "You, oh…"

"What time did I even come in last night?" Simon asked. 

"Five," Baz said numbly. 

Simon dropped his head on the toilet seat. "What did I even get up to last night? My everything aches."

Baz nodded once. There was a buzzing in his ears, shutting everything else out. He thought he might throw up. 

"You okay?" Simon asked. "Baz?"

Bile rising in his throat Baz turned wordlessly. He didn't bother coming up with an excuse for his escape. 

"Baz?"

His bare feet hit stone floors, echoing across the walls. No one was around either unconscious from the previous nights' parties or simply unwilling to greet the winter air. 

By some miracle, Baz managed to get to the catacombs before burning tears hit his cheeks. 

"No," he finally managed. He stumbled, hands pressed into the stone wall. "This is not possible," his words came between gasping sobs. 

He didn't remember. Simon didn't remember. Damn alcohol, damn New Year's, damn…

"Damn him," Baz clenched his fists until blood ran down his wrists. "Damn you, Simon Snow."   
  


* * *

  
Curse Snow. Curse that stupid prat Simon Snow. 

Baz bent over the tub, forcing himself to take deep breaths. How did Snow always know the wrong thing to say?

Cramped from his new position the child within him squirmed. 

“Sorry, love,” he mumbled, sitting back u. “Didn’t mean to jostle.”

“You talk to them,” Simon hovered in the doorway, grinning at him. 

“And if I do?” Baz countered, face burning. “What of it?”

He shrugged, handing over the water. “Nothing. It’s just funny.”

“Only decent person to talk to around here.” Baz set his now empty glass down, hand pressed to his hip. 

Simon let the comment slide. “Another one?”

A nod. 

Simon scooped up his shaking hand, pressing Baz’s knuckles to his lips once more. Quietly Simon whispered words of comfort, anything to support. 

Baz didn’t hear a syllable. Clinging to Simon he forced unwilling air through his teeth. Face still mask-like in his agony Baz set his tense shoulders. Freehand at his middle he rubbed absent circles into the firm skin. He groaned once more, long and breathless before the composure could drop. 

Simon squeezed tighter. “Did, you, you want to go lie down?”

Baz bit his lip, casting one longing glance to the beds. “Best not.”

“What? Why?” Simon asked, fingers still wound through his. “Baz, you need rest.”

“I also don’t need to bleed over all things less easily cleaned.”

“Your bed is already covered in blood. We’ll have to wash it all anyway.”

Baz lifted an eyebrow. “What do you mean we?”

“Why do you sound surprised?” Simon squeezed his hand again. “I’m sticking by you. Come on. Let’s get you to bed.” He stood, hands outstretched. 

Suppressing the wild scrambling thud of his heart Baz took the hands offered him. Using Simon as an anchor Baz stood, lips pressed tight. “Alistair Crowley,” he grunted, clinging to Simon. He dropped his head to his chest. 

“Baz?” Simon yelped. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Heat flooded Baz’s cheeks, self consciously cradling his low hanging belly. “I am fine. The baby is just… heavy.”

“Oh,” Simon’s shoulders dropped even as he shifted from foot to foot. Freehand at Baz’s hips he paused. “Can I do anything else?”

“Get me to bed.” Baz couldn’t quite hide his amused smile. 

Watching Snow was like watching a child figure out a jigsaw. Simon’s hesitation, while mildly annoying, was completely understandable. And the scrunched expression endeared him to his roommate even more. 

“Are you sure I can’t do anything else?” Simon asked, taking the slow trek from tub to matress. “Are you hungry?”

Baz pretended to ignore the question, lowering himself back down to his bed. The honest answer was yes. He was starving, though not for the kind of things Simon was imagining. 

Shifting awkwardly for a moment Simon sat on the corner of his bed, hand inches away from Baz’s leg. “Really though, what can I do?”

Some perverse part of him wanted to sneer, to tell Snow to just give up, give him peace and quiet. Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to test this tenuous loyalty. 

“Just, keep talking with me? It’s helping me keep my mind present.”

Simon hemmed and hawed for a second. “What about?”

“You can’t rely on me for conversation topics,” Baz tensed up. “What about all those questions you had? You’ve always been a clueless-” his words dissolved to a hiss. 

“I’ll let that go for now,” Simon moved to take his hand again.

“I can’t,” Baz pulled his hand away. “I’ve been able to control myself before. It’s getting worse. I, I’m too strong. I’ll end up hurting you. The anathema will have me out on the front lawn. I can’t-” he dropped against his pillows, face screwed up.

“What?” Simon was shaking his head, taking his now limp hand. “No way. I’m helping you. The anathema can’t stop me from helping.”

“I’d rather not take the chance.”

Simon opened his mouth again. 

“Just ask your damn questions.”

“I was going to.”

“Sure.”

Mind reeling Simon switched tac. “You never answered my question before.”

“Which one would that be?” Baz laid his head back, settling atop his thick comforter, both hand-linked casually across his wide middle. 

“About the other parent.”

To Baz’s credit, he was able to summon a lie far faster than Simon, though he still bit his tongue before he spoke. “Over Christmas break. I went out drinking. Not much else to tell.”

“Really?”

Baz refused to meet his unconvinced glower. “Really. I never even got his name.”

“His?” Simon blinked. 

“Yes.  _ his _ .”

“I didn’t know you were gay.”

Baz pushed himself up just enough to shoot Snow a withering glance. “I am perhaps the most attractive person in his school. And yet I have never made any attempt to acquire a girlfriend or even go on a date. What  _ did _ you think, Snow?”

His face went red. “Guess I didn’t.” He mumbled something about Agatha.”

“Wellbelove is nice. But no.”

“So why are you always flirting with her?”

_ Because you’re cute when you’re grumpy _ , Baz thought, biting his tongue harder. “It was amusing to get under your skin.”

Simon pulled the very face Baz was imagining, struggling to find more words.

“Did you have any more questions?”

Mouth still open he swore Simon was going to say _no_ before more words fumbled out. “You said you’d been looking for information for months. How long did it take you to realize?”

“That I was pregnant?” Baz clarified. “Too long.” Hs brushed his hand along the taut skin. “They were kicking my ribs out of place before I really accepted it. By then I was already using a glamor to hide my weight.”

Simons’s eyes flicked quickly across the room, choosing a point on the wall. 

“Stare all you want,” Baz said bitterly. “I’m sure I am quite the pathetic spectacle.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Simon rubbed the back of his neck. 

Baz pursed his lips. “You found me lying in a pool of my own blood.”

“Well…” Simon’s gaze moved from his face back to his bed. “Um… Baz?”

He shoved himself up on his elbow. “What’s wrong?” Baz hadn’t smelled blood. Peering around his stomach he found a puddle of clear liquid staining the blankets. “Oh.”

“If you had to go you could’ve just-”

“I didn’t piss myself you prat! My waters have broken.” Baz forced himself to a sitting position.

Simon blush faded to a pale worry. “Baz. What are you doing? Lie back down.”

Baz shook his head. “I can’t. Everything is about to get much worse.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, Simon still protesting. The words fell on deaf ears. Halfway to his feet Baz froze, stalk still. 

“Baz?”

The swelling pain broke. Fingers dug into the skin of his stomach. Baz dropped like a stone. He crumpled against the carpet. Hunched over, his strangled scream was animalistic. 

“Baz!” Simon dropped to his knees, ready to take his hand. “Baz what- bloody hell,” he scrambled back. 

“W-What?” Baz lifted heavy-lidded eyes, contraction fading. The only thing he found was Simon open-mouthed and frozen. 

“You have fangs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your support! I love, love, love reading any comments you may have. Don't be scared to share :)


	5. Chapter Five

Baz forced himself to stay away from Snow for the next few months. If he'd opened his mouth he wasn't sure he'd beg him to remember or break his neck. It hurt just to see him. Simon woke first if only to get breakfast. If he woke alongside him he'd curl up and wait for him to go. 

Or he tried. 

Whoever had said emotions couldn't affect your body had lied. Through all the emotional shit his heart was dealing with he was sick all the time. 

Scrambling up the second his eyes fluttered open he promptly lost the previous night's dinner. 

"Ugh," Baz pressed his palms into his eyes, struggling to keep any breakfast down. He paused in the hallway between classes, hiding in a far-flung alcove.

“-about Baz?”

He froze in place, ears perked up. 

"You know it’s nice almost," Simon was saying, walking just around the corner. "Besides, he hardly even looks at me anymore let alone talks to me. Maybe he’s finally gotten bored of being a prick." His laugh was too light. 

Baz froze in place, hardly daring to breathe. Something tugged hard underneath his ribs. This couldn’t be happening. This was a nightmare. Sure Snow wasn’t a fan of him. But to actually enjoy watching him fall apart like this?

* * *

Smacking a hand over his mouth Baz felt his heart hit the floor. “I didn’t know. I can’t control them. I mean, I can normally. But-” He slammed his jaw shut, forcing them to retract. 

“Relax,” Simon scooted forward again. “That was cool. Can I see them again?”

It took several seconds for Baz’s brain to catch up. “Really?”

Simon nodded. 

“Really?”

“I’ve known you were a vampire. But I’ve never been able to imagine actual fangs.”

_ How _ ? Baz cursed silently. How? Even when Snow was being a nosy moron could he manage to look so endearing? Eyes the size of dinner plates, knelt beside Baz, head tilted up at him Simon was, frankly, adorable. 

“Please?” Simon’s words drew him back to reality. 

“You’re sure?”

Simon nodded emphatically. 

Choosing a spot on the wall Baz lifted his lip, showing him once more. 

“Wicked,” Simon whispered, leaning forward. “Also, I called it.”

“Shut up.” Baz turned away, closing his mouth and swallowing hard. “Go on then.”

“What?”

“Go tell Bunce and Welbelove of whoever. Blab to the Mage. You finally have proof your roommate is a monster.”

Simon blinked, brows met. “Why would I-” he stopped under Baz’s glare. “Why now, I mean? They didn’t believe me before. They wouldn’t now. Besides, I think we might have some mildly more pressing things to bring up to him.”

“Crowley, Snow!” Baz’s heart was thudding painfully against his ribs. “What’s with all this  _ we _ stuff?”

Simon mirrored Baz’s own impatient frown. “Why do you keep asking that?”

“Because I don’t understand!” Baz threw his arms into the air. “What- How can there still be a  _ we _ ? You haven’t abandoned me to lie on the tile floor, which I still don’t understand. But then what? What else is there? You’ll go right back to hating me or ignoring me and trying to convince the school I’m a monster. Except you said you aren’t going to do that. So I don’t understand.” He couldn’t help the crack in his voice. “Why are you helping me?”

“Well, I can’t exactly ignore you if there’s a baby in the room, will I?” Simon rolled his eyes as if to answer the obvious. “And I’ll be to the Mage with you to figure it all out.”

Something was cracking in Baz’s chest. “Snow.”

“And don’t tell me that is not an option,” he pointed at Baz. “I know about this girl who graduated a few years ago who had a baby. She had the baby with her. They were able to work things out with the staff and her roommate. I don’t know exactly how it worked out but-”

“Snow,” Baz lifted his voice. “You’re babbling.”

“I’m just saying there are options. And I’ve got your back.”

“But-” Cut off by his own warring body. Baz stopped face crumpling. His breath caught in his chest. 

“Lie down,” Simon jumped forward, hand on his chest. “You need to breathe.”

Baz let himself be lifted up, placed back on the mattress. He couldn’t help the noises he made, breathless scream and strangled growls. 

Simon spoke mindless comforts, though he knew it fell on deaf ears once more. “Baz, Baz,” he squeezed his arm. “You have to breathe.”

Baz opened his mouth, pushed to his back he felt something against his cheek. Too much pain to investigate. 

A hand was squeezing his. “Baz.”

Struggling for air he managed ragged gasps between sobs. Sobs? The mind consuming cramp dipped. Slowly Baz pressed a hand to his cheek. His fingers came back damp. This wasn’t the few tears wrung out by pain. He was crying. 

Baz let himself crumple under the weight of the waiting emotions. Sorrow was pressed atop a layer of soil. Too exhausted to resist it he let himself cry. Pushed away from Simon he curled his arms around himself, cradling his stomach. 

“Baz?” Simon asked with a muted alarm. “Baz, don’t cry. Please. You’re doing great. It’ll be over soon.”

He managed a watery chuckle. “It’s not pain, Snow. I can handle pain.”

“Then… what?”

Turned back over Baz tried to summon a retort. Then he met Simon’s eyes. So earnest, so concerned, so, so Simon. He couldn’t lie, not anymore. 

“I’m not keeping the baby.”

Simon gaped. “What?”

“I’m not keeping them,” he repeated. “No one has any clue they exist beside the pair of us. I’ve made sure of that. Not my father, not my aunt, and especially not the Mage. And I intend to keep it that way.”

“So, so what?” Simon struggled to summon his thoughts. “You’ll just dump them on some orphanage doorstep?”

“That would be best for-”

“No.”

“What?”

Simon’s jaw was locked, shoulders squared. Indignation radiated from every pore. “No. You can’t do that. You can’t just leave your child, not to the system. That would be the worst thing you could do for them. The system in the worst, worst,” he was practically spitting in rage. 

“What choice do I have?” It wasn’t asked with any anger, which was enough to stop Simon’s tirade. Baz asked with genuine desperation, searching for another way. 

“Anything. Anything else would be better. Find them a real family. Find an adoptive family, or even better, keep them. They deserve to know their family. Your family is well off.” Simon began to pick up steam. “Talk to your parents. They can help. And I can too.”

_ No _ . Too much promised. Too much to think about. And just the words were painful. 

“I can help with the day to day stuff, help explain to the Mage. I can even get Penny to help us think up a story for the students.”

“And become an undead teenage male mother? My father would burn me alive. My own mother would rise from her grave to hex me.” Baz shook, tears slowing. Fingers wound in his shirt he panted through the mounting pain. 

Simon took his arm, holding tight as Baz struggled through his contraction. In the silence Simon’s mind whirred. 

“What about the other parent?”

Baz shook his head. Why did all the questions have to be so painful? How could he possibly find a way to say it?

“He can’t want them,” Baz spoke the words like a challenge. 

Simon didn’t catch the phrasing. “We can track him down. I mean, he should at least have the option.”

“He wouldn’t want them.”

“And how would you know?”

“He, he’s not the type.” There was a burning pain in his chest. He couldn’t even look at Simon. 

“How would you know?” Simon repeated. “You said you never even got his name.”

Baz knew his heart was going to explode or implode. In any case, it wouldn’t be able to survive this abuse. “I,” his throat stuck. “I didn’t.”

“Then how do you know-”

“He doesn’t remember!” The force of his outburst had him upright. “Okay? The morning after the didn’t even remember sleeping with me. It was the New Year. He was wasted. He… he doesn’t remember.” There were new tears at the corners of his eyes. “I raped him.”

Simon was frozen. “That can’t be.”

Sure it was disgust that stopped him Baz was caught off guard by how gently it was said. 

Baz nodded, self hate turning tears hotter. “He was too drunk to function. He started it but I didn’t stop him.” His sob ripped through his throat. “Crowley, I wanted it so badly to be real.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are all so sweet to me. I swear you're going to make me cry. 
> 
> I love replying to comments!


	6. Chapter Six

"Maybe he's just sick of you," Bunce was teasing.

"Don't even tease about that. It's gross. Our whole room smells like sick all the time." Simon groaned loudly. 

They paused in the hallway. Baz only just dared to peek around the corner. Snow was crouched, tying up a loose shoelace. 

Wellbelove tossed her hair over her shoulder, smiling. “You’ll get through it. He can’t be sick forever.”

“Who knows,” Snow shook his head. “It’s been months. He’s starting to look like a skeleton. It’s really gross.”

Bunce snorted. “Poor baby,” she muttered sarcastically.

“Do you think something could be wrong?” Welleblove’s face flickered to one of mild concern. 

“Who cares?” Snow straightened, stretching a little. “I just wish he’d stop puking everywhere. I swear I’ll ask to switch rooms if it goes on much longer.”

The girls laughed at his expense. Simon's protest was lighthearted, however. 

Baz could swear he felt his heart squeezing. He sunk back down in the alcove, pressing his palms into his eyes. Snow would rather watch him suffer than summon any concern. He really did despise him. Why was his life like this? Why did it have to hurt this badly?

* * *

“Wait,” Simon said slowly, the gears of his mind sparking to like. “He, the guy, forced himself on you?”

“He was drunk. We both were.”

Simon bristled. “If he forced himself on you it is not your fault!”

“Snow, I didn’t stop him. I could've stopped him.” There was a fist around his heart. 

“It would take a much stronger man to resist that,” Simon tried to smile before turning to earnest concern. “You were both drunk. Neither of you were in your right mind. I’m sure there are more drunk New Year's hookups than maybe anyone can count and… and… did you say New Year's?” 

Baz could only manage one nod.

“But you were here for New Year's.”

He dared a glance up. Even Snow must’ve been able to figure it out by now. 

“Do I know this guy?”

Eyebrow raised Baz said nothing. 

“Oh.”

A pause.”

“Oh…” Simon was on his feet before his knees gave out. “Me?”

Baz dropped his face in his hands. Another nod. 

“What happened?”

“You want a play by play?”

“You remember?”

“Every second.”

Simon’s hand brushed his wrist. 

Baz pressed his hand more firmly against his face. He didn’t want to see Simon’s fury, disappointment, disgust. He couldn’t take it. His heat would shatter. 

Both hands around his wrists Simon pulled them away, a hand under Baz’s chin. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. 

“What?” Baz couldn’t comprehend. “Why are you sorry?”

“I raped you,” Simon’s horror was apparent. “I forced myself on you. Drunk or no, it’s no excuse. I know it’s not close to enough. But I am so, so sorry.”

Baz’s mind was reeling. This was not how this was supposed to go. Snow was supposed to be furious, to shun him away, to tell the Mage. But this? This distraught, apologetic Simon was not supposed to happen.

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

Simon’s hands were still around his wrists. “Of course I do.”

“I should’ve stopped you,” Baz swallowed hard. “I know about you and Welbelove but I didn’t do anything. I just let you pin me down and, and now…” heat rose up his cheeks. 

“And now there’s a baby,” Simon finished. 

It hadn’t been exactly where he was going but Baz welcomed the distraction from his far more mature thoughts. “Yeah,” he cradled his middle. 

Simon reached forward, hesitated, then dropped his hand. “You really don’t know how?”

“As far as I can tell when you, er,” his face was aflame. “It was literal magic. That’s my best guess.

“And you’re sure it’s mine?”

Baz soured. “As you were my first and only possibility, yes.”

Simon’s jaw hit the floor. “I was your- I what?”

“Shut your mouth Snow, you look like a codfish.”

He did, still too floored to speak. 

Baz flinched, hand pressed to his middle. 

“Another?” Simon’s hand slid down his wrist, clinging to his hand, their fingers linked.

“No,” Baz rubbed his hand along the taut skin. “Baby is just kicking.”

“Can I…” Face burning red Simon’s hand was inches away. 

“They are your baby,” he mumbled. 

Simon opened his mouth. 

“Codfish,” Baz caught his fingers, bringing them across his stomach. They waited in bated silence for a second before a sharp kick landed in the center of Simon’s palm. 

His jaw dropped once more, taking a deep breath. “Hello poppet,” Simon crooned. “You’re really strong.”

If Baz had thought his heart had hurt before he’d been vastly mistaken. Throbbing below his ribs he knew it would burst. 

Glancing up Simon’s bright grin fell away. “Baz what’s wrong? You’re crying.”

He brushed at his face. “I thought you’d hate me. If you knew about what happened, if you knew about the baby. I mean, we’re seventeen.”

“So you’re happy?”

“I suppose I am.”

Simon lifted their still linked fingers to his mouth. He kissed Baz's hand firmly. “Good.”

“What?”

“I mean, if, if this makes you happy, if the idea of us, of all almost three of us then it’s good.”

Baz couldn’t understand, couldn’t grasp what was being said.

“I, now that I know I mean,” Simon took a moment to find the right words. “Now that I know the baby, our baby exists, I am not letting them out of my sight. I want them. I want our baby.”

Alistair Crowley, Baz knew he must be in a dream, some wild, pain-induced fantasy. This could not be real. “Really? You promise?”

“I swear,” Simon met his eyes, that firey determination burning bright. 

The utter relief didn’t have time to set in before his stomach turned to stone under his palm. Unable to move, to even summon a whimper, he clung to Simon, ever more tears wrung out his closed eyes. 

Simon’s words of comfort were millions of miles away.

Slowly Baz returned to the conscious world.

“Baz?” Simon rubbed his knee. “Are you okay?”

“They’re getting stronger,” he managed. 

Gnawing on his lip Simon leaned forward, pressing a kiss atop his belly button. “You stop that. Do you hear me? You’re hurting Baz.”

Baz couldn't help his smile. He liked this fantasy, whatever it was. 

A hand placed itself on his knee. “Baz?”

“Hmm?”

“You should lie back down.”

“Can’t,” Baz pushed forward, no matter how regretfully, placing his feet on the floor. “If I’m in transition I need to be on my feet. It’ll go faster.”

To his credit, Simon only hesitated another moment. “Fine. But you sit when you need it.”

Arms outstretched to him Baz took the offer, getting himself back upright, clinging tightly to Simon’s arm. They began a slow pace back and forth across the room. As they went Baz dropped his forehead on Simon’s shoulder, awkward as Baz still stood several inches taller. 

Lost in a millennia of agony Baz glanced up at the digital clock. Nearly six in the morning. “This is taking too long,” he struggled to keep the sob from his voice. 

“You said this started at dinner?” Simon could feel the knot in his chest. 

“I said it got worse at dinner. Nearly twelve hours ago.” Baz said. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

“Don’t say that.” Simon gipped his shoulders, panic welling. “Please don’t say that.”

Baz met Simon’s wide eyes with his own bloodshot pain. “Snow.”

Simon’s hand brushed Baz’s cheek. “You’ve got this. And you are literally having my baby. Call me Simon.”

The blush rose thick and fast though Simon didn’t let him turn away. “What?”

“That’s um,” Baz cleared his throat. “That’s what you said on New Year's.”

Red as a fire engine now Simon paused. “Oh,” guilt welled up, like acid in his chest. “I’m still sorry.”

“You said it yourself,” Baz brushed him off. “We were both drunk. It’s fine.”

“Not about that.”

Baz had to search the face he knew so well. “Then what?” he didn’t stop himself, letting one shaking hand brush away his curls. 

“I don’t remember,” Simon said desperately. “Or… I don’t think I do.”

“You’re not making any sense, Snow.”

Rambling now Simon fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I keep having these dreams, well just the one dream, always the same. It started after New Year's. I always just brushed them off. Now I don’t know which parts are real and which are...”

Baz wound their fingers together once more. “Tell me.”

“It was early, really early. That grey twilight part of the morning.”

Leaning forward Baz’s breath turned sharp.

“Baz?”

“Keep talking,” he put his arms around Simon’s shoulder face buried in his chest. “Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now it's all out in the open! Thank everyone for all the amazing comments. 
> 
> Please, please, tell me what you think! I love hearing from you guys.


	7. Chapter Seven

"You'd better not puke again today," Simon stopped in the bathroom door, pointing to the slowly waking Baz.

He scowled. The first words Snow had spoken to him in months and that was the best he could come up with. 

"I'll be sure to aim it at your pillow should the need arise," Baz stood.

"I- but- you- don't you dare!" Simon sputtered indignantly. Marching to the bathroom he slammed the door shut. 

“Angering your roommate, probably not the best thing to do.” Though it did have benefits; namely raising his own spirits. 

Under his ribs, an unfamiliar flutter drew his attention. 

“Can’t be hungry,” he paused, inspecting the movement. “Maybe-”

“Are you talking to yourself?” Simon emerged from the bathroom, eyebrow raised. 

Baz snatched his hand away from his middle. “And what if I am?”

He shrugged, back to Baz, pulling his shirt over his head. 

For the moment it was visible to him Baz counted every mole up Simon’s spine. It was a pattern he’d memorized long ago, something he longed to trace again. His fingers buzzed with the memory of the night he’d finally been able to do just that. 

The shifting returned. Baz froze. That was  _ not _ shifting. 

Baz yelped aloud, a hand pressed to his navel. 

“What’s wrong with-” Simon stopped, his roommate brushing past him,”-you?”

Out in the hall, Baz moved quickly. He knew what he’d felt. 

That wasn’t his stomach growling or a muscle twitching. That was a kick. Something inside him was wrong. Something inside him was alive and, most definitely, kicking. 

* * *

Simon did as he was told, continuing his story, his fingers absently rubbing circles around Baz’s navel. “And I had confetti in my hair. I can see it whenever it falls. You’re below me. I have you pinned down. But you’re smiling,” Simon paused, feeling Baz catch his breath. 

“Keep going?”

It was such a gentle request, soft, desperate. 

Simon knew there was something, some emotional pain he could not quite dissect.

“That’s the part that caught me off guard every time.” Simon brushed a hand up Baz’s spine. “I’d never seen you smile like that. It was so…” he stopped. He couldn’t say adorable. “I want to see you smile like that again.”

Baz froze. “What are you implying Snow?”

His voice was half a whisper under Baz’s ear. “Call me Simon.”

Baz trembled. 

“I-” Baz’s voice caught, knees knocking.

Alarm trumped everything. “Is it another one already? It’s only been a couple of minutes.”

He shook his head. Baz wound his fingers into Simon’s shirt. “It isn’t a contraction. It’s just pressure.” His voice caught. 

“What do I do?”

“I need to get down, lower,” Baz dropped his head back, huffing for air. “Kneeling, squatting, something to get gravity on my side.”

“Do you want to lean against the bed?”

“Anything.”

Simon led Baz across the room, helping him to a kneeling position. 

Clinging to the bed Baz fell limp, knees spread. All the blood had drained from his face. “That was horrible,” he whispered. 

Slowly Simon began to rub his back. “How can I help?”

“Keep talking,” Baz said into the mattress. 

“I’m kind of out of questions.”

“Think of more.”

Racking his brains Simon landed on a topic. “I know you’re not exactly thrilled now but have you hated being pregnant? I mean, you did choose to keep the baby.”

Baz had to muse that one over, mind pulled from his throbbing muscles. “I never hated it, being pregnant I mean. Once the shock had settled it was somewhat pleasant.”

It wasn’t as much an admission as a realization.

“Really?” Simon’s hand paused at his lower back. 

“Really. I was able to hide my growth with spells.”

Simon shrugged. “I don’t think you look bad at all. It kind of suites you in a way.”

Feeling heat up his face Baz mumbled. “Yes, well,” he cleared his throat and pressed on. “They never really hindered movement. Once I got past the more unpleasant symptoms it was nice to feel the kicks every so often.” He began to relax, an unconscious smile on his face. 

“Do they kick randomly?” Simon asked, fascinated. 

“Sometimes,” Baz readjusted. “Like muscle twitches or perhaps boredom. But then sometimes there are reactions.”

“Reactions?”

“They do have ears,” Baz pointed out. “I feel them more often when I’m hungry or when people talk too loudly.”

Simon’s smile warmed. “That sounds amazing. What did you mean by… other symptoms?” 

“Quote on quote ‘normal’ things to expect from pregnancy.” His breath hitched but either the new position or perverse will kept him speaking. “Those include general exhaustion, soreness, overactive kidneys, nausea-”

“I remember that one,” Simon pulled a face. 

Baz laughed, muscles in his back unwinding. “I’m sure you do. The day you stole the shower first was the first day I felt them kick.”

“I,” Simon lit up. “Really? That was when you- why didn’t you tell…” his face dropped, deflating. “I wish I’d been there, been aware to discover it with you.”

“It was out of your control,” Baz tried to turn and face him. “I chose to keep them a secret.”

Simon caught his hand. “I know. You did what you thought was best. I only wish what you had felt was safe hadn’t been away from me. I made you feel… not good,” he amended poorly. “And that part if my fault. You can’t tell me it isn’t. And for that I’m sorry.”

“You need to stop apologizing,” Baz returned the shakey smile. “You’re here now. And even that much means the world to me.”

Simon moved slower. “I like seeing you happy,” he whispered. 

“You do have a tendency to bring it out in me.” Heat crept steadily up his neck, setting his cheeks aflame.

“Is that so?”

Their faces were centimeters apart now.

“You make me happy, Snow”

Simon’s forehead brushed his. “Call me Simon.”

“I...” 

Baz cut himself off, curling over once more. He panted through his teeth. His strained hips were going to crack. 

“Baz!” Simon took his arm. “Is it a contraction or the same-?”

“Pressure,” Baz hissed through his teeth. “It’s just pressure.”

“What can I do?”

He was shaking his head, agony turning him nonverbal. 

Desperate, Simon gathered Baz into his arms, holding him tightly. Both on their knees Simon clung to him, searching for anything else to help. 

The only thing Baz could do was shake, unable to stop himself. Sobs began to tear his lungs. Pressure mounted ever more present at his hips and spine. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” Simon pulled back. “Don’t say that. Of course, you can.”

Baz shook his head. “I’m not saying it about my will power. I’m saying I am physically not built for this.” He held tighter to Simon, face pressed into his shoulder. “This pressure, the baby is stuck. They’re caught in my hips.”

Swallowing hard, Simon rubbed his back once more. “You’re sure?”

“I’ve been in labor for two days. It’s the only thing I can think of.”

“We need help,” Simon was begging now. “I don’t know how to help you.”

“I know what to do,” Baz said, too terrified to admit the idea brewing in the back of his mind.

“What?”

Baz opened his mouth a couple of times before trying again. “I need to fracture my hip.”

“What?!” Simon balked. “No. No way. You can’t break your bones!”

With a steady glare, Baz leveled his gaze on Simon. “It’s either that or cut the kid out. This way is safer.”

“Safer?”

Baz began to breathe harder, muscles giving out. “There aren’t any other options. It’s for the baby. I have to keep them safe.” His words dissolved into a weak moan. Sure his hips would shatter now, without some kind of aid, Baz crumpled against his support. 

“T-Tell me what to do,” Simon forced himself to bravery. 

“Help me lie down.”

Lifting him slowly Simon helped him onto the mattress. “What next?”

“Bring me my wand and clean towels.”

Simon did as he was told. 

“Don’t watch,” Baz said firmly, once he’d returned. The towels were placed under his legs. 

“What are you doing?”

Baz stayed firm. “You don’t want to know.”

He wanted to argue, but Simon knew it was true. Unfortunately, Simon wouldn't let it go. “Baz. What are you going to do?”

“I’ll be making two small fractures here, and here,” Baz indicated the places on his lower hips. “Then numbing the surrounding area.”

“Why can’t you numb first?” Simon asked. “I understand you have to do… have to fore the baby. But you shouldn’t need to be in any more pain.”

“I have to know I’ve got the right spot.”

“Can I do anything else?”

Baz clung to his shirt hem, visibly trembling. “Cover your ears.”

Paler now Simon pressed his hands over his ears. 

Making sure he wasn’t watching Baz whispered. “Simon?”

No reaction. 

Big deep breath. Teeth grit. Baz lifted his wand. Muttering the words he gave it less than a second. The bones snapped with a soul-deep  _ crack. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the kind words. I've finally pinned down a definitive chapter count at ten!
> 
> I love replying to comments. Tell me what you think and what you'd like to see.


	8. Chapter Eight

Months. That's how long it'd taken to set in. Something inside him was moving. After hours upon hours of research, he couldn't come up with any kind of plausible deduction. 

It wasn't tapeworms or parasites. There weren't the right symptoms. Sure he was hungry all the time now but he wasn't falling into languish. 

"Quite the opposite," Baz muttered, hunched over the library table. 

He'd grown. 

Where he'd once had well-toned muscles was a mound, a lump like rising bread dough. 

That and the movements weren't squirms. If anything they felt like, like limbs. 

Hidden in the back corner he dared to inspect it. Carefully he rubbed a hand over his middle. It’d been weeks since he’d found a spell to hide the growth. 

Snow’s jabs about his weight had been quite enough for him. “ _ Packing on some fighting weight for football season?” _ He’d blinked up at him so innocently. 

The first few pounds had felt like a blessing. After so long puking up everything he ingested, the idea that his heath was returning was comforting. At least it had been until it hadn't stopped. This wasn’t an excess in eating. The creature was growing and fast. 

A sharp internal jab drew his attention back.

“What are you?” Baz whispered, gently rubbing circles over his middle. 

* * *

It took every ounce of will Baz could summon not to scream. Pain swelled. His clawed fingered punctured the mattress. Consciousness wavered. 

He had to move fast or he was going to blackout. 

Keeping his wand pointed directly at his pelvis Baz whispered his pain relief. Now crumpled on the mattress Baz squeezed Simon's hand. 

“Did you do it?”

One nod. The aftershocks of his shattered bones had made goosebumps across his skin. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Hungry,” Baz spoke without thought.

“The dining hall should be open soon.” Simon moved to stand. “What should I get? I could-”

Baz caught his arm. “Not that kind of hungry.”

“What?” Simon paused, going very pale. “Oh, um, what should I do?”

“I can’t ask you to give me blood.” 

Simon fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. “I mean, I have blood.” 

“No!” Baz screamed. “Not human, never- and I can’t bite you. I can’t-” The words spilled from his mouth, unattached from his mind. 

“Okay,” Simon took his shaking hands, squeezing tightly. “Okay. No human blood. Breathe. What should I get?”

Baz couldn’t speak. His heart hammered so loudly in his ears he thought he’d gone deaf. “Rats, in the basement,” he managed to speak around his numb tongue. “Or squirrel and rabbits in the woods.”

“What about a bird?” Simon sat straight, pointing to the window. Out on the small ledge pecked a small bunch of birds, settling in the early morning sunlight. 

“That’ll work.” Baz tried to sit up. 

“No you don’t,” Simon pushed him back down. "You just broke your hips. You are going to lie back and look pretty."

Trying for an overdramatic sigh Baz found himself unable to keep from smirking. "I'll try my best, Snow."

Simon began to argue before the dawning of what he'd just said hit him. Spinning on his heel he flushed scarlet. Knelt in front of the window Simon snatched up his wand, pushing up the frame the smallest of fractions. Softly he began to sing into the morning. 

"Sing sweet nightingale," he warbled. Most birds took off. One sat frozen, caught by his voice if not the spell. 

Of course, he could sing too. Baz's heart fluttered. Why not?

Trailing off Simon snatched the bird around the wings, slamming the window shut. 

"Got 'em!" Simon returned with his prize like a proud hunting dog. 

"Thank you," Baz leaned forward enough to take the squirming bird. "Now, just, don't watch."

Struggling to hide disappointment Simon hesitated. "What should I do?"

"Perhaps you should get your own breakfast."

Simon was shaking his head before Baz was done speaking. "I am not leaving you alone that long. You're in labor."

"A fact I am perfectly aware of," Baz said gently. "But the pain relief I've cast will keep me entirely numb for another quarter of an hour. Once I eat I'll need to sleep." It was a lie, not only to Simon. There was no chance he'd be able to sleep with his child so tantalizingly close, no matter how exhausted he became.

"I, I can't just leave you."

The bird was squirming in his grip, veins audibly thrumming. Baz could feel the bone of fangs against his lip. "If you won't eat, perhaps you could find some things for the baby," Baz tried. 

Instantly he knew he'd struck gold. Simon lit up, nodding emphatically. 

"Anything. What do I need to get?"

"On the top floor, by the Mage's office there is a small hall closet. There are dolls and things for small children to play with when the Mage has parent visitors. The box should be at the top of the closet. A couple of the toys may be halfway decent."

"Can do!" Simon crouched forward, placing another kiss atop his stomach before shooting out of the room. 

Baz watched him go before looking back at the bird, exasperated with himself. He thought his face may burst into flame. "The kiss was for the baby," he said aloud. "That's all, just for the baby." But it had been a kiss all the same. 

The bird gave an indignant chirp. 

"Right, yes," Baz shook himself, returning to the present. 

He broke its neck deftly, draining the feathered creature within moments. No need for it to suffer. Far from full Baz found his thirst sated. 

Up on his elbow he paused. Right, unable to stand on numbed legs. 

Baz banished the bird out the window with a few quickly summoned spells. Hung in the air, a perverse image of life the bedroom door was flung open. 

"Alistair Crowley," Baz jumped, wand clattering to the floor. "Some warning would have been nice."

"Sorry," Simon grinned sheepishly. He dropped a small box at the foot of his bed. The cardboard was overfilled with scraps of fabric and something clinking at the bottom. 

"Couldn't make up your mind?"

Simon stuck out his tongue. Breathless and pink Baz wouldn't have been surprised if he'd run the whole way. 

"I didn't know how big they'd be," Simon admitted. "Or the gender," he shot Baz a pointed look. 

"And how would I have any idea? The school is not exactly equipped with an ultrasound."

His words were waved away. 

"Anyway," Simon began again. "I found a bunch of stuff in that closet, not just clothes. The mage must keep a well-stocked toy chest."

Baz nodded numbly. "Yes, toy chest."

Either not hearing or ignoring him Simon held up an odd assortment of tiny onesies, cloth diapers, binkies and even bottles. 

"It's all going to need washing," Baz poked through the items, brushing over the clothes. 

"I like this one," Simon said, holding up a gray onesie printed with a small crescent moon.

"It's too large," Baz dismissed, hardly looking. "The sizes are on the tags. Find newborn."

Simon pouted. "At least look at it?"

"I've seen them before."

Baz had promised. No more lies, not to Snow. With a steadying breath he took the plunge. "This box, it isn't- they aren't toys. They're mine. When the mage took over from my mother he never bothered to clean out her old things. All the baby things, nearly that full closet, used to belong to me."

"Oh," Simon's smile slid away. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"Yes, well," Baz gathered his emotions, tucking them away. "Back to the larger matters at hand?"

"I wouldn't say larger," Simon finally found a newborn size. The glaze in his eyes was nothing less than enchanted. The minuscule blue outfit was sewn with hand covers and a matching cap, adorned with stars. 

"Not a word," Baz mumbled. 

"What?"

"I don't want any snide comments about how small I was or anything else of the sort."

"I wasn't going to," Simon folded it gently. "All I wanted to say was I can't wait to see our baby in it."

Our baby. 

The ache in Baz's chest couldn't be hidden by any numbing. His hand absently brushed across his stomach. Their baby. Crowley he was about to have a baby with Simon Snow.

"Are you okay?" Simon called hand atop his. "Baz? Everything okay?"

"Just fine," he summoned a thin smile. "The numbing may be starting to wind down." It wasn't a lie. Just as planned, the feeling was starting to return to his lower body. 

Simon paled. "Already? You're sure? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Baz waved away the concern. "It's hardly a feeling, light pressure at worst. Clean the baby things. I'll call if I need you."

"You're sure," Simon's grip increased pressure. 

"I'm sure."

Reluctantly Simon let go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly there! 
> 
> Thank you all for reading.


	9. Chapter Nine

Lying on his bed in the dim early morning light he stared at the ceiling. “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.” He mumbled once more. The words had become something of a spell to him. 

The summer was quickly approaching. He was off the spend two months with his family. Did he dare to tell anyone about his discovery? Did he want to?

One hand atop his middle Baz felt for now-familiar kicks. It was no worm, no creature, no spell. The only thing below his ribs now was his  _ baby _ , tiny and growing every day. 

“What’s with you?” Snow asked, returning to the room. 

Baz snatched his hand away, laying it under his head once more. “Thinking about the summer.”

Face falling Snow nodded. “What are you going to do anyway? France or Dubai with your family?” he snarled the last word. 

“Would you like to trade?” Baz asked without thinking. 

“What?”

Baz closed his eyes, regretting the words but continuing anyway. “I would rather not return to my father’s house.”

“Why not?” Snow began to shove items into his suitcase with vigor. “You’re rich, you have a big happy family ready to spend hours doing… whatever it is happy families do.” Snow sat on the end of his bed. “I’d give anything to have a family like you.”

Baz turned over, an arm over his middle, burning behind his lids. “I think I would rather be alone.”

* * *

Baz watched, battling to hold back those confusing and troublesome emotions. 

The bathroom door remained open, Simon running the water. Carefully he washed each item, brows knit whenever he met a particularly dusty or dirty patch. 

Making absolutely sure Snow wasn't watching Baz pressed his palms into his eyes, blushing furiously. 

"What are you doing?" he whispered. "He's talking to me, holding my hand,  _ kissing me _ ." Would it stop once the baby was born? Did he want them to? 

No. that was the honest answer. He never wanted it to stop, ever. 

"Ow," he pulled his hands away, pressing knuckles into his stomach. His thoughts stopped dead. Pressure rolled over him, bone-deep. The edge of the pain was still far distant. Nothing to worry about. 

So why was his heart set at a hundred miles an hour?

The low distant kick was answer enough. Ah yes, the whole reason for this colossal mess; the baby. The can of sticky questions he'd staved off was close to tipping over. Brand new questions had piled every day. And now, Simon firmly at his side, and the realization he was going to keep said child his terror was reaching danger levels.

"Baz?" Simon was back at his side, speaking as if he thought Baz may shatter. 

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?"

"Have I given any indication to the contrary?"

Simon spoke slower, choosing every word carefully. "You look, well I've never seen you like this before. But I think you look scared."

Baz opened his mouth a few times before he nodded, a short jerk of his head. "I am terrified."

"Has the numbing worn off?" Simon's alarm spiked. 

"No," Baz found Simon's hand without any effort. "I can handle pain. I've said before. It's… Crowley, Snow, can we handle a baby? This isn't some metaphorical gene splice. This is a real, living, breathing child. We're teenagers. We're still children ourselves. What are we doing? How can we do this?"

"Like that," Simon said firmly. " _ We _ will do it. Together. No one in the history of humankind has known how to raise a baby, no matter how old." Simon lifted Baz's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss across his knuckles. "It'll be an adventure of sorts. We'll figure it out."

"Since when have you been so good at pep talks?" Baz pulled their hands close, returning the kiss to Snow's wrist. 

"I'm not. I tend to just talk. Sometimes good stuff just comes out."

Baz's soft laugh turned to a grunt. All the blood drained from his cheeks. "Well, it may be time to get this show on the road as they say."

"You don't- are you-" Simon stuttered. 

"I need to push."

Baz lifted his knees, re-fixing the blanket below him. Panting now he blew through the last of the contraction. 

"What do I do? How do I help? What-"

"Shut up and hold my hand," Baz tensed, waiting for the next pain. It didn't wait, rolling across him like a wave. Every instinct, every muscle forced downward. 

Baz swallowed a strangled sob, chin to chest. 

Beside him Simon's terror seemed to have rendered him mute. He clung to Baz, using him as a lifeline as much as Baz used him. 

After what felt like years but could only have been an hour Baz fell limp, panting through the last of the contraction, dread growing. 

It shouldn't be taking this long.

"What are you doing?" Simon pulled him closer, voice cracking from disuse. 

"I need a moment."

Simon gnawed on his lip. "You can't give up now. You're so close."

"Snow," Baz glared through heavy lids. "Shut up."

"But-"

"Please."

He fell silent, watching Baz.

Dark circles ringed his eyes. His face and neck were damp with sweat, every muscle shaking. "Something," Baz took a slow breath. "Something is wrong."

"What?" Simon squeaked. "It can't be."

Pain swelled ever stronger, leaving Baz trembling. Fear came faster than pain, glazing over his eyes, straining his throat. "The baby is stuck."

Simon thought he may blackout. "What?"

"They aren't moving," Baz kept desperation out of his voice, if only barely. "I've been pushing too long with too little movement. I won't have the strength to keep this up much longer."

The exhaustion in the words was more terrifying than any panic or desperation. Baz spoke with resigned certainty.

"Are you sure?"

"Snow," Baz groaned. He pressed his eyes closed. He wouldn't cry, he wouldn't; it would take too much energy. "does it matter? We have to do something. Our baby is stuck. They won't be able to- they don't have much-" tears gathered quickly. "Help me save our baby."

"Direct me."

Baz sat up. "Get me to the floor. I need to get to a crouch and," his words dissolved to a hiss.

"Your hips," Simon began.

"Baby first."

Clinging tightly to the bed frame, fist curled around the headboard Baz pushed himself to a frogs crouch. Every ounce of blood drained from his face. White-hot agony reared its head. Pain was the only thing he could comprehend. He'd dropped his head to Simon's chest, whimpering. 

"You can do this," Simon ran his fingers through Baz's hair. "Just a little longer."

Baz ached, not only physically. He needed that blind faith. This was worse, so much worse than anything he'd imagined. He'd been wrong. He couldn't do this. 

Swallowing back sobs he looked desperately up at Simon. "How?" His voice cracked. "How can you be so sure? I've been at this for so long."

"Because I know you," Simon brushed his cheek gently. "You aren't capable of giving up. You've got this," he pressed a firm kiss to Baz's forehead. 

Baz leaned into the affection, fingers curling around Simon's wrist. The next contraction was. spine pressed against the bed, Simon before him, keeping his upright Baz couldn't control himself. 

The scream, the howl of pain, was wrung from him without volition. He didn't care who heard, didn't care about the tears spilling down his cheeks, or even his summoned fangs. The only real thing in the world was pain. It pulled at every muscle, every vein. His bones shifted with the force of it. Baz couldn't do this. He couldn't.

"What can I do?" Simon still held him. He hadn't gone. He wouldn't 

"Talk to me," Baz begged. He needed chatter. He needed to know he wasn't alone. Silence gave him time to dwell, gave room for doubts. Baz needed Simon. And he needed that blind optimism. 

"Okay," Simon kissed his forehead again. Hands atop Baz's hips for balance he babbled without thought. "What in the world is Penny going to think of us being parents? I guess it doesn't matter what she thinks. I know you're going to be amazing. I hope they have your looks, and your brains," he gave a watery chuckle. "I hope they have your everything."

"Oh?" Baz panted, struggling to catch his breath. "Why is that?"

"Because you're practically perfect," Simon lifted his chin, meeting his eyes. 

"That I am not." Baz crumbled against him, arms around Simon's neck. "Though I agree, they should inherit my mind."

"Rude."

"I hope they look like you." Baz pressed on, lifting his gaze once more, longing written in every line of his face. "Down to every mole. My brains, your beauty. They'll be unstoppable."

Simon blushed. "Did you really just say my b-" he stopped, drowned by the newest contraction. 

There was no repeat howl, every cell of Baz's body concentrated in bearing down. Pain trailing off once more Baz dropped against Simon. 


	10. Chapter Ten

Baz really had kept his promise to remain alone in the remaining months. He'd hardly seen his family, opting to stay home through the usual vacations taken. He feigned every sickness in the book to stay in his room. 

As the school year began, he'd almost considered staying home through it. Growing a new person was positively exhausting. 

He'd stayed away from football tryouts for the new year, claiming he wanted to study more. Baz had pushed away his usual posse of peers. Though he couldn't quite get himself out of bed enough. 

On one such night, lying on his bed Baz hissed in through his teeth. 

"What's with you?" Simon asked, pausing as he moved to head to dinner. 

"Would you care if I gave you an answer, Snow?" 

Simon shifted in the doorway, battling for a response. 

He wouldn't have cared if Snow had found a biting retort. He hurt. The cramping had grown worse. The last few days had him reluctant to get out of bed. 

Vanishing into the hallway Snow shut the door behind him. Not daring to drop the usual illusion Baz pressed his hand to his middle, biting back a groan. 

The cramps wouldn't stop, growing ever more painful. After so many months of hiding it, bottling everything up and keeping everything, keeping  _ them _ to himself, the time had come. 

"Time to get this show on the road?" he breathed, brushing his middle.

His only answer was a hearty kick. 

* * *

"Baz?"

"Hmm?"

"New Year's. You said before… you said you'd wanted it to be real. Is that true?"

He had no strength to lie. 

"Yes."

"How long?"

"How long have I liked you?"

A nod. 

"Since the day we met." Baz couldn't bite his tongue. "But I've loved you near as long."

Simon had to reboot. "You love me?"

It was Baz's turn to nod. "New Year's was going to be my perfect miracle. And then you forgot."

"I'm here now, aren't I?"

"You're not here for me."

Simon gaped. "Says who?"

They locked eyes, Baz lifting his head from Simon's chest. They still knelt together, Simon keeping him upright. Unable to look away, Baz was caught off guard by the tenderness that greeted him. Simon was so very close. His lips were a whisper away. "But…" the air had become very thin. 

"I…" Simon bit his lip. 

"Snow," Baz began. "Agh!" He hitched forward, lost in the new pain. Breath caught his hand shifted, moving down.

"Baz?"

His cautious fingers froze, pale. "Crowley, that's a head."

"What?" Simon sighed in relief. "Really?"

Baz didn't wait for permission. Grabbing Snow's hand he brushed them over the right place. 

Simon's smile never wavered. Mouth open Simon spoke thickly. "That's our baby."

Baz didn't have time to dwell in that sunlight bright smile. The contractions were on top of each other. Pulling his own fingers away they wound once more in Simon's shirt. "Keep your hand there."

"What?"

"You need to keep a light pressure on their head. You've got to catch them."

Terror crashed across Simon. "What if I drop them?"

"You won't drop them," Baz kissed his jaw, light and quick. "I trust you."

Simon nodded.

Clung to him Baz wound his arms around his neck. Simon waited, one hand along the tiny skull, the other hovering nearby. 

Teeth grit Baz gave his last-ditch effort. The last of his strength was waning. He pushed. Body aflame he felt the increase in pressure. It was going to rip him in half. Broken hips pushed to their apex. His bones threatened to shatter. Then the pressure, mercifully, vanished. 

Simon crouched further. 

Slumped against him, Baz gasped for air. "Simon?" he whispered. 

No answer. 

The muscles in Simon's back were too tense. 

"What's wrong?"

"They aren't crying." Something caught in Simon's throat. "Aren't they supposed to cry?"

Baz slunk slowly to the floor. "I have to get the fluid out of their lungs." He held out trembling arms, taking the minuscule body. Baz had no time to inspect them for anything else, deftly spelling the fluid away. 

Still attached to the umbilical cord, covered in disgusting film, the tiny mouth opened, screaming to the world. 

Baz dropped his head against the bed, eyes filling with tears. Gathering the baby more comfortably into his arms he smiled. "Hello sunshine," he whispered. The baby was no larger than a loaf of bread. Their head was the size of a peach, tiny curled fists pressed into their chin. Their skin mottled and puse, still furiously screaming, they were the most beautiful creature Baz had ever laid eyes on. 

"Say hello to your son, Simon," Baz whispered. 

"H-Hi," Simon crouched next to him, an arm sliding absently around Baz's shoulders. "Hello, poppet. You're beautiful.”

"He's got your hair," Baz brushed stray things out of those bronze curls. 

Simon couldn't tear his eyes away. 

"Simon?"

He jolted up. "You called me…"

"This isn't over."

"But, but, we have him," Simon sputtered. 

Baz took his free hand. "Calm yourself. All they need is a bath and a proper set of clothes. And I still need to pass the afterbirth."

"The what?"

"You don't want to know," Baz pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Would you like to cut the cord?"

"Will it hurt him?"

Baz couldn't stop smiling. "No, he won't feel a thing." He handed the still screaming baby over him. Taking up his wand once more he cut the word himself. Quick and clean. 

Cradling their son closer Simon smiled, tears never ceasing. “Baz, he’s so perfect.”

“He needs washing,” Baz glanced to the bathroom sink, panic welling at the thought of such a distance between them. Even if it was just the next room. 

Baz forced himself to calm. There were things he had to do. Once they were done he never had to put her down. 

Walking at a snail's pace Simon moved to his feet, going to the bathroom. His arms curled closer around the baby, holding them as if they were made of glass. 

Baz watched. Despite the physical cutting of the cord he still felt it tugging at him. He took a deep breath through his teeth, pain gathering. The blooming ache under his ribs joined the chorus of his trembling body. 

The muted contraction rolled through, the last of its kind. Baz cringed at the feeling, the disgusting afterbirth dropping to the towel below. Once satisfied there were no tears he quickly banished it. Then he set about cleaning the rest of the room. The floor and bed were simple. Less simple was healing up his hips, already cracked and shifted, leaving him unable to even sit up properly. Baz had never known what to do about his shifted organs, or birth canal. And now, mind fogged from other worries, nothing had changed. 

Eventually, he settled on a general healing and repeated the previous numbing. It wasn’t great but it would do. 

Unable to move, wishing he could Baz watched the bathroom. 

“ _ Hush little baby don’t you cry, _ ” Simon whispered, dreadfully off tune but loving every second. Softly he wiped down the little one in his arms. Slowly the cries turned from wails to whimpers. 

“You’re good with him,” Baz said lightly. 

Simon flushed red. “There are lots of little kids at the orphanage,” he admitted sheepishly. “I was never very good with them.”

Their little boy began to squirm once more, face scrunching. 

“Bring him here,” Baz tried to turn over, words dissolving into a muted hiss. 

“Lie down!” Alarmed Simon stepped forward, too worried about the little one in his arms to go quickly. 

Unable to suppress his smile Baz held his arms out, guiding the fussing infant back to his bare chest. “I’m fine, Snow.” He pressed a kiss to the top of the baby’s head. Laid once more in his parent’s arms, the familiar heartbeat in his ears the whimpers turned softer. The birth hadn’t just worn him out. 

Simon hovered next to him. “You don’t look fine.”

Baz dared a proper glance downward, the light cast by the bathroom making clear just how damaged he was. His hips were crooked, disrupted blood vessels causing bruises to bloom across his pale thighs. His pale skin was disgusting, the shadows of bloodstains still remaining. “I may need the nurse sometime soon,” he admitted, unable to help the waver in his voice. 

Simon knelt beside him, hand across his. 

The soft touches hadn’t stopped. 

“Baz? What’s wrong?”

“How are we going to explain this?” Baz brushed his thumb over the tiny head. “How do we know they won’t take him away? We don’t even know if he’s fully human.”

“Hey,” Simon squeezed his free hand. “Relax. I’m not going to let anything happen. Not to you, not to him. Nothing.”

“You can’t know that for sure.”

"I'm the damn chosen one. No one can make me do anything I don't want to," Simon's eyes glazed to a sharp expression. It was a look Baz knew all too well. 

Smiling an exhausted smile Baz finally dared to reciprocate those gentle touches. He pressed a hand to his cheek. "Crowley, Snow. Have you always been such a stubborn ass?"

Simon snapped back to reality. "Hey, that's uncalled for."

Why couldn't Baz resist smiling? His entire body ached. Never had he been so utterly exhausted, worn thin, run ragged. 

Catching his expression Simon tilted his head. "Baz?"

"Perhaps we could pursue this topic at a later date? Your son and I need some rest."

Simon matched his smile. "I've got a son. We've got a son."

"So it would seem," Baz pushed back those bronze curls, needing to see his face, needing to feel the solid form beside him, needing to know he wasn't alone. 

"Can I lie down with you?"

Baz's laugh caught in his throat. "That would be how we arrived in this situation, Snow."

He flushed scarlet. "So not what I meant."

Already shifting over Baz continued to laugh. 

"For someone who looks like they just got hit by a truck you're in an oddly good mood." Simon laid beside him, absently hooking his leg around Baz's ankle. 

"A backhanded compliment," Baz turned cautiously, pulling himself closer. "Though true enough." 

Their faces were once again centimeters apart. 

Simon placed a gentle hand over his, cradling their sleeping infant between them. The warmth he brought was just another comfort to the new baby. "He looks like you," Simon whispered. 

"With my current state I would hope not." 

"You know what I mean," Simon curled closer, his free hand brushing against this spine.   
  
Baz couldn't breathe. So happy. Everything he'd ever wanted right there. "Afraid I don't."

"It's," Simon's lips were so close. "It's just…" So close. Practically touching. Fire burned between them. 

He wasn’t alone, not anymore, never again. 

"Simon!" Penelope opened the door. The plate of breakfast in her hands clattered to the floor. 

Their lips locked, holding an infant between them, his roommate still utterly unclothed, nothing could have prepared her for the sight. "What the f-!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The last chapter. I apologize for taking so long. I am atrocious at endings. I'm still not super happy with it but hey, it's here, it's done. I really hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I am hoping to have more Wayward Son adventures in the future so keep an eye out. And thank you so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading. As I am far too poor to buy the book for ages I have written fanfiction instead. 
> 
> I love to reply to all comments so please feel free to do so!


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